Dan's standing in front of his stove, the skillet in his hand utterly useless if the direction of this conversation is to be believed. He'd only even offered pancakes because he was already making a few for himself; saw no harm in using up all of the batter instead of half of it, and Rorschach has never been picky about what's handed to him.

Until now.

"Superior product in every way, Daniel," Rorschach asserts, tilting his head to one side as if the statement is so obvious that even saying it aloud is a curiosity.

Dan lets the pan clatter to the counter; rubs circles into his temples, cradling a rapidly blossoming headache. "The batter's completely different, I can't just use it without adjustments..."

And he knows Rorschach won't tell him to adjust it, to go ahead and add more sugar and whatever else it needs, to haul his ancient waffle iron down from the top cabinet and get to work - but under normal circumstances, he wouldn't even still be here. Would have long since pushed his chair out(scraping the legs across the linoleum the entire way), made some noise about not wanting to inconvenience him, been gone.

Under the pulled-up mask, Rorschach's mouth is a tight line of indecision. He seems paler than he should be, cheeks sunken more than they were this time last week. Dan wonders idly when the last time was that he actually ate.

*

It takes an extra half-hour to adjust the batter and get the old iron heated up, but sitting across the table from Rorschach as he carefully fills in tiny squares with syrup, creating symmetric patterns in the grid, something almost like a smile on his face - all Dan can think is, really, what's an extra half hour out of his life, for this?

*

#2 - Prompt: 'Red sniff'

Nite Owl puts a hand to his cowled forehead; he has never felt so exasperated in his life. "Rorschach, you can't smell Communism."

A quiet 'hrm' in the dark of the warehouse, and Rorschach is crouched over their paltry collection of gathered clues, poking through them with a careful finger. There's a puddle of blood nearby and the thumb of his glove is stained from bringing a sample of it up to his nose, sniffed at with some kind of weighty, measured significance.

"Better sense of smell than you, Nite Owl," Rorschach says, and he says it because it's true, but there's something in the tone that makes Dan think he also says it specifically to infuriate him.

It works. Nite Owl paces. His hand gesticulates indistinctly as he moves, as if he can't quite wrap his mind around the words he's trying to force out of his mouth, as if their inanity is staggering him into incoherency. "...it doesn't matter. Communism is a belief system-"

"Economic system," Rorschach huffs, picking up a matchbook, turning it over. "Inextricably entangled with the ruling body and designed to subjugate free thought."

"...not a thing you can smell."

His pacing is making too much noise; a clutch of pigeons scatter up from some industrial litter near his feet and into the rafters. He doesn't notice. Rorschach is examining a stub of pencil now, the eraser bitten clean off. He doesn't say anything, clearly doesn't think his assertion that their suspect 'smells Communist' needs any defending.

"I mean," Nite Owl continues, egged on by the blatant, challenging silence. "If you'd said he smelled anemic, or smelled like a heroin-addict, or hell, even that he smelled like he had Chinese for lunch today, I could buy that. But you can't-"

"Stain on the matchbook," Rorschach cuts him off, standing smoothly. "Scent indicates a particular brand of bootlegged potato vodka only served in one venue in the city, Soviet-themed bar and a known haven for Communist sympathizers. Alcohol level in blood shows recent patronage. Pencil stub is covered in rubbed-off newsprint; the ink is one used in a cheap printing process utilized by seven known underground newspapers. Six are radical left-wing, and four admit openly to Communist affiliation."

Silence. Somewhere above them, a pigeon ruffles its feathers.

"Oh," Nite Owl says.

Rorschach pulls a plastic bag from one pocket and carefully starts putting the clues inside, for safekeeping. This character, they've been after for months; the usual lackadaisical 'leave it for the police' crime scene methods aren't going to be productive here. He doesn't say a word, but when a taxi goes by outside, temporarily flooding the room with light, Nite Owl can swear he sees him smirking under the halfway pulled-up mask.

"But, I mean..." A short laugh, still strung out with incredulity. "This isn't 1949. It doesn't really matter if he's Communist. Legally, I mean."

Rorschach shrugs, sealing the bag, and yes - the smirk is there, layered into the tight cording of his voice. "Of course not," he says, as deadpan as he's ever managed. "Was just commenting."

*

#3 - Prompt: 'Airlines kitties'(AN: I know the idea of Adrian flying commercial is absurd, but once the captcha came up I couldn't resist.)

-

He only ever attempts to travel with Bubastis once.

*

She's a kitten, a tiny thing, all brilliantly hued fur still coming in in random clumps as if she hasn't quite decided what color she wants to be yet. The geneticists were primarily focused on physical health and viability; they've given even odds on red or lilac-blue, and while red would certainly be more 'natural', Adrian's been secretly hoping for the latter.

Not that any of that matters worth a damn, when the airline attendant peers into the underseat carrier he's brought her in and looks up at him with mistrust and horror in her eyes. "What is that?" she asks, as if he's brought a bloody, rabid badger to her instead of a marvelously adorable baby lynx, color-coordination issues notwithstanding.

"A cat," he says simply, eying the attendant with a careful blend of sympathy and wariness, as if to say 'I'm dreadfully sorry you're so unintelligent; your family must be devastated.'

It does the trick.

*

On the airplane, she begins to yowl. He expects this during the rapid pressure-change of takeoff, expects her to stop once they've leveled off.

She does not stop.

There is grumbling around him about pets being allowed in the first-class compartment.

"She's a very first-class sort of cat," Adrian replies, and his tone could freeze fire. The compartment is silent for the rest of the flight.

*

Silent, of course, except for his poor baby girl, who will not. Stop. Crying.

*

Two hours over the Pacific and he decides to open the travel bag a tiny bit, sneak her a morsel of something in case all this noise is hunger - he has a travel packet of both the ostrich and salmon she's becoming accustomed to, as well as a vending-machine bag of cheesy crackers, an unhealthy indulgence that he figures won't do her any harm just this once. But when he reaches into the bag to try to calm her, inch-long canines sink straight into his hand.

He makes a strangled sound, smiling through the agony - retracts his hand, and politely asks the nearest stewardess for a clean towel and a bandage, please.

Afterward, he eats the crackers himself. It's satisfying.

*

Thirteen hours and he would have thought infantile feline lungs and vocal cords would have given out by now, but he'd have been wrong.

*

He's prodded awake by the large, sweaty man in the seat next to him, in the badly cut suit and worse hairpiece. He's only just managed to get to sleep amidst the cacophony and now he's been woken up -

"Need to do something about that," he man says, pointing to the bag, and Adrian's about to snap that yes, yes, he knows, he's been trying, when the smell hits him like the front grill of a run-down, unmarked van.

"...oh, Bubs," he mutters, leaning down towards the bag, nose tightly clenched between two fingers. "Tell me you didn't."

*

By the time he reaches his destination, he emerges an Adrian Veidt that the world has never seen before, even after the longest international jaunts: haggard, worn, with dark bags under his eyes, a badly bandaged hand, a head that feels like cold iron, dragging towards the ground. It's all he can do to check into his hotel - the penthouse suite, naturally, and no, they don't usually accept pets but of course for Mr. Veidt they will make an exception - and let Bubastis out of her carrier to explore her new environs, all kittenish joy and curiosity.

Through the haze of pain and sleep-deprivation and weariness, Adrian sits down to watch her, and smiles.

*

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Comments

I had no idea you wrote the Adrian and Bubastis fic! THAT IS THE BEST. The best thing ever. Ever. Also, the waffle fic. Here I thought I was getting kind of good at recognizing your writing. Evidently, I was wrong. I can't stop rereading all three of these; this post is making me so gleeful.

It's because it's Adrian instead of Dan/Ror, that's what threw you off. XD No honestly, I felt my narrative style changing slightly to suit his POV, same way it usually does when I try to write Jon, so I'm not surprised people didn't pick up on it. I was in the library for -three hours- between classes yesterday and decided to just try a few captchas and see if I couldn't batter through the block I have going on.

ALSO I HAVE BEEN IN THAT SITUATION. Except in coach. D:

I'm so glad you like these. :D They're all so silly in their own ways - captchas/ficlets seem to either end up VERY SILLY or VERY DARK AND ANGSTY, I can't seem to write much in the middle.

Wow I had no idea 3 was yours! You stealthy person you. (I hope you see what I mean now about enjoying your writing regardless of name attached. BECAUSE I DID. Shame on you for endearing me to Adrian.)

Honestly, you have no idea what a thrill it gives me when someone says 'I didn't know X was yours' haha. ANON SUCCESS, FINALLY. And yes, Adrian may drop a squid in NY eventually but he still loves his cat and that is endearing. :)

D'awwwwwwwwww that last scene just made me smile. These are all gems, though-- your talent really shows through when you write these little vignettes. Normally I don't find myself re-reading an author's work after I've finished it (esp. short pieces like this), but there's so much layering to your writing that each time it feels fresh and enjoyable.

My favorite passage:

Somewhere above them, a pigeon ruffles its feathers.

"Oh," Nite Owl says.

To me, it reads as though the pigeon is an extension of Dan's emotions... and the ruffling, and the feathers... just too cute.

Also, THIS:

"Stain on the matchbook," Rorschach cuts him off, standing smoothly. "Scent indicates a particular brand of bootlegged potato vodka only served in one venue in the city, Soviet-themed bar and a known haven for Communist sympathizers. Alcohol level in blood shows recent patronage. Pencil stub is covered in rubbed-off newsprint; the ink is one used in a cheap printing process utilized by seven known underground newspapers. Six are radical left-wing, and four admit openly to Communist affiliation."

Holmeschach, much? I almost expected him to follow up with "it's elementary, my dear Drieberg," LOL.

And yeah; I've always wanted to write Ror being the brilliant detective that everyone keeps saying he used to be pre-Roche, and another story made me realize that he would totally be a Holmes fanboy, so structuring his little speech that way seemed natural, especially given that he's basically just showing off. XD ALSO: IT IS ENTIRELY POSSIBLE HE'S MAKING ALL OF THAT UP.

Waffles! Rorschach asserting their superiority over pancaes is inexplicably both hilarious and adorable, and I love motherhen!Dan dragging his waffle iron down and fiddling with the batter to make them even though Rorschach hasn't directly asked.

Nite Owl puts a hand to his cowled forehead; he has never felt so exasperated in his life. "Rorschach, you can't smell Communism."

*dies* This entire ficlet killed me with laughter, especially Rorschach's little monologue at the end and dan's annoyed/def;ated little "Oh."

Thirteen hours and he would have thought infantile feline lungs and vocal cords would have given out by now, but he'd have been wrong.

Cats' vocal cords never give out when they're traveling in planes/trains/automobiles. Also, I love Adrian silencing the stweardess with a "You family must be so sad that you're so stupid" look.

I just love how somewhere along the line, Z!Ror turned into a showoff? It started with the stopwatch fic, idek. I'll probably figure out why at some point. XD But it only surfaces in short little fics so I dono.

That was a delicious trio of fic! <3I especially love the waffles ficlet. One can never have enough fluff, especially with starving Rorschach in the mix. The fact that Dan is so used to Rorschach's social interaction faults makes me grin.:DThanks for sharing!

1. NO YOU. D: Waffles contain more sugar to begin with and are the most efficient syrup delivery devices ever invented. This is why they win. But yes Dan is so daww, noticing that Ror's in starving-hobo-mode and making them anyway.

These are made of all sorts of awesome. The image of Ror filling in waffle squares with syrup will always make me smile, and him being such a show-off is rather endearing. You write Adrian perfectly, as if you've written him hundreds of times before.

I will always be impressed by how much you post, especially since the quality of it all is amazing. (God, it takes me forever to post my crap.)

These three were all written straight into the KM comment boxes hahaha. I've never actually been this fast/prolific before - WM has just done strange things to my brain, dug out the little spot that's responsible for writing and lit it up like a christmas tree.

#1 is a good example of how we all have those friends who drive us crazy with their ridiculous demands, but after seeing them all happy you feel like you'd do it over and over again just for that alone. Not to mention, seeing Rorschach excited over anything would make going out of your way worth it. C: Aww, Dannnn~

I KNEW Rorschach could smell sin! O:< And other sorts of deviance... Another perk to being a zombie(next to the kinky sex).

I know. I want to hate Adrian for what he did, and then my brain goes 'but he had his reasons and it's more complicated than that', and then I think 'yes but he killed millions of people' and then my brain goes YES BUT DAWWWW LOOK AT THE KITTY. And I lose. :(

He's discovering more and more perks as time goes on, and most of them are awesome for showing off in front of Dan protecting the city. XD